An American Tune
by soho178
Summary: Jarrod's letters home while serving with the Union Army.


**An American Tune**

By Soho178

**Disclaimer: For Entertainment purposes only. The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.**

_Many's the time I've been mistaken  
And many times confused  
Yes, and often felt forsaken  
And certainly misused  
But I'm all right, I'm all right  
I'm just weary to my bones  
Still, you don't expect to be  
Bright and bon vivant  
So far away from home, so far away from home_

Lyrics -American Tune,Paul Simon

**July 28, 1861**

Dear Father and Mother,

Well Army life is certainly a change from that of a student. I am assigned to the 69th Pennsylvania Regiment out of Philadelphia. Most of the men are Irish and only in this country for a few years. Some are second or third generation Americans, but not many. The unit is all city boys and many of them are close friends who enlisted together. It gives a family feel among the men and eases their loneliness so far from home and family.

I suppose I am lucky having grown up on a ranch and rising with the sun. At least I haven't had to suffer the wrath of the Sergeant whose job it is to turn us into soldiers. Being a rancher's son has also proven an advantage in other ways. The training they put us through is not so different as the busy season at the ranch, hard work, long days, following orders. All in all, it has a familiar feel, except of course that we are in uniform and training to go into battle.

It looks like the Barkley ranch may follow me in other ways as well. According to our Sergeant there is a shortage of men who can ride well and know cattle. I have been told I may be seconded to the Supply Corps, who are responsible for feeding vast numbers of men daily. It would seem that the Army is, among other things, one perpetual cattle drive. The herds that follow the larger detachments of troops can number in the thousands. So it looks like I have come East to be a student only to end up a rancher again. I am sure you appreciate the irony of that.

I know that my choice had caused you no end of upset and for that I apologize. I hope that you can understand that I had to follow what my heart and my conscience told me was the right course. I received your last letter and will certainly do my best to dissuade Nick from following in my footsteps. This is an ugly business up close and not one he should be thinking about. The politicians say it will be over in a few months so hopefully all will be settled by the time Nick turns 18 and can enlist on his own. However, I must confess that with our defeat at Bull Run there is more talk of a protracted war. I fear Mr. Lincoln may be disappointed in his hopes for a swift victory.

For the time being continue to write to me at the same address. I will let you know if I am assigned to another unit. The mail can take a long time to follow a soldier, but don't let that discourage you. Letters from home are a welcome treat and we often share them among ourselves. I look forward to hearing all the news of the ranch and all of you.

Give my love to Audra, Eugene and Nick. Keep yourselves well and safe.

Your loving son,

Jarrod

**September 7, 1861**

Dear Nick,

It was good to get your letter and hear about the ranch. It sounds like the Fall Roundup is shaping up to be a big one. I know you've been going on them for years, but I hope you'll be careful, if not for your own sake, for Mother's. You know how she fusses and worries. But of course you do! I am sure she had the liniment bottle out in seconds when you came home with those wire cuts. Why is it that the cattle never seem to mind them as much as we do?

So you finally got Katie Pearson to go to the dance with you. I'm sorry my last letter didn't reach you in time to avert disaster. It sounds like Katie is no different than her older sister Dora. Those Pearson girls certainly are built for hugging and kissing. Oh well, at least you got her home on time and were saved the lecture from Father and having to suffer Mother's patented Disappointed Look. Count yourself lucky!

So far being a soldier in the Army of the Potomac has been a dull affair. We have been sent to the Washington and will be here for the foreseeable future. There is no fighting nearby so we stand guard and run errands for the staff and support getting supplies to the units that are fighting. The Navy is doing an effective job of blockading the southern coastal states so we shall see if the fighting stays there or moves closer.

In answer to your questions, no I haven't been assigned to the Supply Corps as I thought. Sorry to disappoint you little brother but I'm not getting my hands dirty herding cattle day in and day out. I am sure that possibility gave you as good a laugh as it did me. Captain Macey explained to me that he had fought hard to keep me in his unit. He needs junior officers who have some experience in the outdoors, riding and shooting a gun. I will be spending some of my time taking groups of the men out and having them set up camp and learn to track and hunt. Some of these boys have never been outside the city or held a gun or rifle until they enlisted.

We see some of the units coming back from the skirmishes that are happening west and south of here. They are grim faced, but most of the men seem to be coming back, which warms our hearts and relieves our nerves. I know that you want to join up and fight as well, but I hope you won't Nick. There is no guarantee that your time away from the ranch will be anything but sitting and waiting and Father needs one of us there. Besides, two of us at risk is one too many.

Well, I have to go and check to be sure the men are all back from their night on the town. They had leave for the evening and now I suspect I will need to go search a bar or two to pick up the stragglers before I'm forced to discipline them for being late.

Your brother,

Jarrod

**December 25th, 1861**

Dear Father and Mother,

Merry Christmas to all of you. I hope that the spirit of the season is in your hearts. I have to admit that I miss spending another Christmas with you. Christmas here in Washington is still a festive affair despite the war. Our unit was granted a two week leave for the holidays so most of the men have taken the opportunity to return home to Philadelphia to see their families. It was nice to be the bearer of good news. Captain Macey was kind enough to invite his lowly First Lieutenant to his home for the day, so I've spent my time in good company and had a lovely meal. Nowhere near as good as Silas' cooking, but still it felt so good to sit at a family table and hear the familiar banter. I brought along the walnuts and pistachios that you sent along last month and they were a hit with his family.

Yes, that is right, you are reading correctly. I've received a promotion this last week, the Army's idea of a Christmas present I suppose.

Thank you all for the lovely Christmas presents. I waited until today to open them and it has made me feel closer to all of you. I have Audra's picture hanging in my quarters. She has certainly blossomed into a fine artist while I've been gone and I hope she will grace me with more pictures of home. I am guessing she made her drawing from up on the North ridge.

Nick, the fine cigarette tobacco is much appreciated. How did you know we mostly roll our own? I suppose it is only common sense, but you have made me the envy of many an enlisted man and officer alike.

Mother and Father, the new leather gloves are a welcome addition to my wardrobe, as are the other clothing you sent along. I will give one or two of the items to some of the less fortunate men in my unit as I have gotten a bit broader in the shoulders than you might remember. They will be most grateful I'm sure. It is cold here, but not so cold as in Boston so I am well clothed with the remnants of what I have from school. With so many men to care for there are not extras to go around.

I'm relieved to hear that the round up and drive went well. I must say that I'm not surprised the Army is buying cattle from as far away as California, though I can guarantee that none of what we've eaten is good Barkley beef. I would know the minute I tasted it. I miss Silas' cooking so much that I sometimes dream of Sunday dinner with his fried chicken and butter rolls. We have been mostly assigned to ordinary duty around the city of Washington which has been quiet. That will change in February, as we have been told that our unit will be reassigned by the middle of that month.

I will wish you a Happy New Year in this letter, in the hopes that 1862 brings peace and prosperity to all of us.

Your loving son,

Jarrod

**February 5th, 1862**

Dear Mother and Father,

I am writing this quick note to let you know that the 69th Pennsylvania Infantry has been assigned under General Sumner and we will be leaving the area around Washington DC. in the next few weeks. I will write to you when time permits, but must caution you that mail is unreliable at best, away from the cities. Please continue to write to the same address in the hopes that some letters will arrive.

**March 2nd, 1862**

Dear Father and Mother,

Your last letter has just arrived and I am rushing to answer before our men move out for the march south. It is with a heavy heart that I read your last letter. I wish fervently that Nick had not chosen to follow my example and enlist. Let us only hope that he is far from the worst of the fighting. There is a lot of land between California and the Mississippi River. I will send up my prayers for him. Please let me know where to write him when you find out.

The mail is about to be dispatched, so I must close. All my love.

Jarrod

* * *

_And I don't know a soul who's not been battered  
I don't have a friend who feels at ease  
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered  
or driven to its knees  
But it's all right, it's all right  
We've lived so well so long  
Still, when I think of the road  
we're traveling on  
I wonder what's gone wrong  
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wro_ng

**April 20, 1862**

Dear Father,

I am writing to you from Yorktown, Virginia as we await the next move by the Confederate troops who we have under siege. Three days ago my men acquitted themselves bravely in our first major battle of the war. All of our action until now has been minor skirmishes and so the men were anxious to prove themselves in battle. It was a furious two hours of fighting which left us with no casualties. The enemy was not so lucky and we have been busy laying to rest 300 brave souls who had the ill fortune to be at the dam when we attacked.

They are mostly boys, Father. Some of them look younger than Nick did when I left for school two years ago. I cannot stop thinking about him and pray you have had word from him and can let me know how he is. It grieves me to think of how much it would hurt you to lose Nick and I wonder if one of my bullets will be responsible for causing that same pain to a mother and father somewhere.

I do not think that my men will be so anxious to see battle again after that day.

Jarrod

**August 1, 1862**

Dear Father,

Please forgive my not writing a decent letter for so long. It has been along hot summer on the road. I believe I have marched or ridden over every road in this part of Virginia. When last I had leisure to write we were at Yorktown. Since them we have been in skirmishes with the enemy almost daily. I find myself a target now of Confederate sharp shooters as I was recently promoted to Captain. Somehow I do not think that is what they meant when they said "Rank hath its privileges."

From Yorktown we marched back north, then south again, and have fought major engagements at Fair Oaks, The Peach Orchard, Savage Station, Charles City, and Malvern Hill and Centerville. With each engagement my men prove themselves to be brave and dedicated. So far we have suffered few casualties and fewer deaths, but each one leaves us diminished in spirit none the less. I wish I could claim that all were victories but I am sure that you have news of these matters already so you know the way of it.

Tonight though, it's quiet and the men are uncommonly cheerful and full of song. We are footsore and I have been able to tell the men that we will camp here for two days. Many of the lads are excellent musicians and have fair Irish tenor voices. They make a cheerful music that lightens the soul. I have offered up one or two or our trail songs, which are met with much appreciation. I shall have to thank Hank for all those nights on the trail when he plays harmonica.

I have received a letter from Nick, passing on what news you have sent him from home. Our mail only comes sporadically here so I am afraid that I have not received any of your letters of late. I expect they will be waiting for me when we return to Washington.

I am not embarrassed to admit to you father that I have had my fill of killing. This war is an ugly thing and I have buried too many good men wearing both colors. I no longer let myself look at their faces, just join my men in the battlefield detail burying our boys and laying the corpses of the enemy in piles to be burned or placed in mass graves before the disease that follows such carnage can raise its head.

I try to remember that we are here to serve a noble cause but it is a hard thing to do in the midst of all this death. So many bad choices have been made and this is where they have led us, brother against brother, friend against friend, shooting and killing men who I would have sat down and had a friendly drink with two years ago. And what for? So that men can own one another or not. How have we come to this that we kill each other over a concept that is so opposite of what this country was founded on? I wonder what our Founding Fathers would think of this. When I get discouraged, I think of Silas and realize that in another place he would never have been a part of our family. What a loss that would have been.

But I am being morose. I am afraid there isn't much in this letter you will want to share with Mother or the children, perhaps you can make up some easy tales for Audra and Gene. I confess that I am too weary to do it myself.

Until next time,

Jarrod

**September 22nd, 1862**

Father,

I hope this letter finds the family in good health and even better spirits. The package that Mother so kindly sent for my birthday has finally managed to catch up with me. It was a bright spot and the men appreciated her kindness at including the hard candies and nuts for them. I think she has earned their life long devotion with her thoughtfulness. The picture of the four of you is most welcome. How Audra and Gene have grown in two years. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I am writing you from the town of Sharpsburg, having been engaged in battle here for three days. Our regiment was uncommonly lucky in that few of us were killed or wounded despite being in the thick of the battle. That cannot be said for others, on either side. I have heard the official estimates that some 12,000 of our countrymen's lives have been lost this week. I can believe it. Antietam Creek literally ran red with blood the day we crossed it to advance into Sharpsburg. I hope never to see such a sight again.

Pray this war ends soon Father. I cannot imagine but that God weeps in heaven over the actions we take here on earth.

It has been up to us to bury our own and to help where we can. My men have done their best, but the Armies have moved on leaving only the walking wounded and the doctors and nurses to attend to the dead and dying. As you may have guessed by now I am one of the wounded, though not so badly. And being an officer I have been quartered with a local family instead of being housed in the hellholes that serve as hospitals.

Father, the Petersens are ill equipped to spare me food and medicine though they have been gracious and generous. This war has been hard on everyone, not just the soldiers. Crops are ruined, food stores ransacked, animals conscripted or outright stolen. It would be a kindness to me if you could see to it that some good fortune came their way as gesture of thanks. I will be leaving here tomorrow and do not have the resources to thank them properly myself.

I must close so this letter can leave with the day's post.

Your son,

Jarrod

**July 7th, 1863**

Father,

So another Independence Day has come and gone. I hope that you have celebrated it in grand style as is the custom there. I must say that I sorely miss the simple pleasures and would give all I possess now to be able to be there with you. This war has gone on too long and I fear will not end any time soon. I have seen far too much death and sickness in these last 18 months.

Perhaps news of Gettysburg had already reached the papers there. If so, then you will be familiar with Cemetery Ridge. Our regiment held the wall at Cemetary Ridge, at least until Pickett's men broke through and drove us back. I still cannot imagine how the Confederates survived the artillery barrage our troops laid down, but suddenly they were there and it was more than we could do to hold them.

I am sorry to say that our losses have been grievous. Out of a force almost 1000 strong, the 69th Pennsylvania has been reduced to some 220 men. Among the casualties was Davey, our regimental standard bearer. You will remember him from my previous letters as the boy who reminded me so much of Nick. I have buried him myself, wanting to be able to tell his mother where he rests. He was all she had and even with all the letters to all the families that I have written these last few days, I haven't been able to bring myself to write that one. So you see Father, you and the family are a pleasant diversion in an otherwise grim time. You will never know how much thoughts of you at home, safe and happy comfort me. I have had no word of Nick in a month. I hope he is well.

I do not know how much longer we will be here. This war does not stop to let those left behind grieve. Please give Mother and the children my love.

Your loving son,

Jarrod

* * *

_We come on the ship they call the Mayflower  
We come on the ship that sailed the moon  
We come in the age's most uncertain hour  
and sing an American tune  
But it's all right, it's all right  
You can't be forever blessed  
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day  
And I'm trying to get some rest  
That's all I'm trying to get some rest_

**November 20th, 1863**

Father,

I am back at Gettysburg, but today is not a day for fighting. Yesterday Mr. Lincoln dedicated the battlefield here in memory of those who died. I still cannot get it out of my mind that we have fought brother against brother for so long. I am including Mr. Lincoln's remarks here as they may shed some light on the solemn feel of the occasion and my thoughts.

Mr. Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States

_"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal._

_Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this._

_But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. "_

I will leave you to contemplate Mr. Lincoln's words on your own. Perhaps with some time and distance from the battle front I will be able to embrace the nobility in them once again. Right now I am simply too weary to be inspired.

I will end this letter of mine with news that I hope you will be happy to hear. With the loss of so many men from the 69th, the unit is being reformed but many of the officers who are left from the original are being transferred. I will be serving in Washington DC, for the foreseeable future, acting as an assistant to Mr. Salmon Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury. It should be interesting as well as educational, and I am sure that Mother will breathe a sigh of relief. I will send you my permanent address as soon as I have arranged for quarters. I will miss my men, as they have become as dear to me as brothers, but I will not be sorry to leave the fighting behind. I have seen enough death for a very long time.

Your loving son,

Jarrod


End file.
